Until We're More

by Cindi Madsen

  Since I’d done so much work on being bolder and more assertive, I decided instead of bemoaning the inevitable distance or simply letting go of the months of hard work I’d put in at the company, I’d do something about it. Landing a position at the San Diego branch where there hadn’t originally been one planned for me might be a long shot, but once the idea popped into my head, it took me six days to work up the courage to talk to my boss. Technically, I asked for the meeting yesterday, so really four days. Not sure why I wanted to call it four. Asking for a meeting at all would’ve sent me into hysterics a month ago.

  Okay, sure, my palms were totally sweating, but I knew what I wanted, and I was going to ask for it.

  What if he says no? That there’s not a position.

  Or worse, that there is, but he still doesn’t think I’m ready?

  Nope, no thinking like that. Even if he’s not sure, I still have one last week to prove myself and change his mind.

  I eyed my cup of coffee, and while I wanted a sip, I hadn’t spilled anything down myself yet and to take a drink now, with my hands trembling the tiniest bit, seemed like tempting fate.

  “Good morning, Chelsea,” Brad said as he stepped into the conference room.

  I started to stand, but he gestured for me to stay seated, so after a half-crouched sort of wave and a mumbled “morning,” I inwardly kicked myself for not being stronger. Then I settled back in my seat and picked up my pen. Okay, my hand was trembling a lot. It was just that, well, I was in love with my best friend and he lived here in San Diego, so I had a lot riding on this question.

  To prevent me from psyching myself out about that, I went with the fake it till you make it method that’d served me well this past five weeks. Lifted chin, direct eye contact—Liam’s intimidation stare didn’t seem like a good idea in this situation, plus I’d probably accidentally wink at my boss or something else equally disastrous and end up at a human resources seminar instead of permanently relocated to this branch, so I kept the intensity to confidently steady.

  “So—” I said, at the same time he said, “I’m glad you—”

  I shook my head and reached for my coffee cup before remembering I wasn’t drinking it. Man, I should’ve gotten a cup of water. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and all that. “You go ahead.”

  “Please,” Brad said, giving me a warm smile as he swept a hand in my direction. “You called the meeting. I forget that you’re perfectly capable of running meetings now.”

  “I am?” Shit, I totally said that out loud. “I mean, I am.” A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. “I’m getting there anyway.”

  “You definitely are. I’ve seen a lot of improvement this past month. I’m glad our time here has been so good for you.”

  “It has.” I licked my dry lips. “Which is why… I know that the original plan was for me to go back to Denver, but I’ve grown attached to my team, and as you know, I’m from here, so I consider San Diego home.” Be bold, be bold, be bold. “I’d be an asset to this branch, and I’d like the chance to prove that. I want to stay.”

  Brad smoothed a hand down his red-and-blue-striped tie. “Funny enough, I was glad you called the meeting because I was going to tell you that there’s an open position in Denver, and that after everything you’ve done here, I recommended you for it.

  “I’ve been asked to remain and oversee things here, and with the branch being so new, the only position I could offer you here would be more of a beginning one. Naturally, you’d get more freedom than the newer team members, but it’d be a step down as well as a cut in pay. If you go back to Denver, you’ll be taking over my old job.”

  Going from marketing associate to associate brand manager had been my goal for a while, my next step on my way to brand manager, strike the associate. Excitement and sorrow crashed, leaving me…I wasn’t sure. Conflicted to say the least.

  “It’s a big promotion,” Brad said. “New title. Office of your own. Significant pay raise.”

  In other words, I could have my dream job or my dream guy. Not both.

  How did one possibly go about choosing one over the other?

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Liam

  “Dude, you’re so happy these days,” Brooklyn said as I walked over to where she was sorting through canvases in the gallery where she worked. “Did you want to thank me for that now or later?”

  “Nope,” I said, and she smacked my arm.

  Honestly, I was happy. Exhausted and busy, and it’d been hard to find time with Chelsea this past week, but luckily she lived with me, so that made it easier. We’d made our way through a whole lot of positions and places around the apartment, and no matter how much sex we had, I couldn’t get enough of the needy noises and having my hands on her, and basically, I was really fucking happy.

  “It’s okay if you’re still too emotionally stunted to express your gratitude.” Brooklyn lifted a huge canvas, and as much as she gave me shit for not expressing emotions, she had a problem asking for help. I let her struggle for a couple seconds before grabbing the top of the painting and guiding it onto a nail on the wall. “Thanks. Chelsea’s coming tonight, right?”

  “Yeah, she’s supposed to meet me here in a few.” Juggling my usual tasks while in training-camp mode was kicking my ass, and I definitely owed her a good time as soon as this shindig was over. Last night I’d come home to find her crashed out in my bed, a candle burned down to the bottom of a glass and lingerie that’d barely covered her ass. I’d been completely exhausted from training and never-ending stacks of paperwork that refused to die, but certain parts of my body woke up, even as my limbs screamed for a break.

  Then I’d realized the reason she hadn’t answered the “Honey, I’m home” joke that I liked a little too much was because she’d fallen asleep waiting for me. I’d tucked her in next to me, hating that I hadn’t shown up after she’d gone to all that trouble and promising myself I’d make it up to her.

  Along with the movie I still owed her, since the other night I’d fallen asleep during the opening scene. If I thought of the texts I’d also failed to return today in order to be done in time to show up to this, the list would get even longer, and I decided to check on my sister now, so I could focus on Chelsea later.

  “You ready for Dad, Mom, and her husband to be in the same space?”

  Brooklyn shrugged. “As ready as I can ever be for that, I guess.”

  Mom had been to one of Brooklyn’s other art shows, but she’d never brought her husband before. They lived in Arizona, where Mom lived the life she’d been deprived of while married to a professional fighter.

  And speak of the devil, she and Larry were walking in now. I’d only met the guy a few times. Seemed nice enough, but he was definitely worlds apart from Dad and the rest of us. He was a lot like that Kevin guy, actually, a fact that made a rock form in my gut.

  For a second, I struggled to figure out why. He was out of the picture and the girl was mine, but a thought I’d done my best not to think about rose up.

  Chelsea would be better off with a guy like that. He could give her things I couldn’t. Be there for her in ways I’d never fully be.

  Every night I came home so late, and a lot of times it took me hours to return her texts, which made me feel like I wasn’t supporting her the way she was supporting me. She had the fridge stocked and ordered in healthy meals I didn’t come home for. She claimed she understood, but how long until that would get old? She’d been dragging this week thanks to how often I woke her up and how little sleep she was getting. I wasn’t getting as much as I should, either, and today during training it’d showed. Neither of us could keep up this pace much longer.

  But we only have one more week…

  Unless I gave in to temptation and asked her not to go. I wanted her to stay, as selfish as it was and in spite of it meaning she’d be constantly getting drawn into family drama, where she had to experience that same hurt she did every single time she was around her mom.

  I�
��ll help her through it.

  When I’m actually around.

  Since I didn’t want to think about all that, I crossed the gallery to greet Mom and Larry.

  “Good to see you again,” he said as I shook his hand, and Mom gave me a hug.

  “Hey,” I said as I hugged her back. “You look good. Happy.” Now I sounded like Brooklyn. Not sure why I chose that word. Apparently it was on my mind. How much I liked being happy. How to stay that way. How to make sure Chelsea was also experiencing enough of it.

  “I am. And of course I’m always excited to see my kids.” A tiny, bitter part of me wanted to say why now? I was in high school when my parents split and she moved to Arizona, so it wasn’t like it’d scarred me or anything, but Finn and especially Brooklyn were a lot younger. Sure, she’d asked them to go with her—she hadn’t bothered with me—but when they chose to stay here with Dad, Mom essentially abandoned her attempts to keep being their mom. She rarely called and visited even less.

  I supposed it was hypocritical of me to hold that against her when Dad had mostly ignored us while living under the same roof. Since Finn and I trained with him, we’d still seen him plenty. He’d driven us harder than anyone else, but it’d turned us into men, and damn good fighters.

  Brooklyn and Shane came over with Finn, and everyone exchanged greetings and hugs while Mom updated us on how well her interior design business was going. Obviously that was where Brooklyn got her artistic side.

  “Yeah, it was hard to get going so late in life,” Mom said, “but business is taking off, and it’s so nice to finally be doing something I love.”

  Other people started filtering in, and I thought once again about how the guys and I never quite fit in at these shindigs. This gallery had a bit of an edgy vibe, which helped us not look so out of place, I supposed. Chelsea arrived at the same time as Dad, right as the art show was getting underway.

  In her red dress and heels, she definitely looked like she belonged here. One corner of her mouth twisted up as she approached, and my heart took off, churning more of that addictive happiness through me.

  Chelsea slid her hands up my arms and linked them behind my neck, bringing her body flush with mine, and our lips met at the halfway point.

  “You look amazing,” I said, forcing myself to keep my hands in decent range.

  “Thank you. You do, too.” She tugged on my tie and wound it around her hand, giving it a jerk. “I like this. You should wear ties more often.”

  I moved my mouth to her ear. “The real fun’s going to be when I take it off later tonight and use it on you.”

  Her eyes widened, more excitement than shock, and she slowly licked her lips. Fuck guys like Kevin. This girl was all mine, selfish or not.

  “Come check out paintings with me,” she said as she laced our fingers together. “Show me which one’s your favorite of Brooklyn’s.”

  “That’s easy. She displayed it at the last show, and I can’t believe someone hasn’t bought it yet.” I guided her over to the bright-colored canvas with the girl reading a book in front of the ocean.

  Chelsea tapped a finger to her lip, studying it intently. “That…”

  “Looks kind of like you,” Brooklyn said from behind us, and Chelsea turned and hugged her, congratulating her on the show. “Confession time: I used your likeness for inspiration. Pretty sure that’s why it’s Liam’s favorite.”

  Chelsea glanced over her shoulder at me, and I shrugged. “I didn’t know she did, but it did make me think of you, and it is why it’s my favorite.” The smile she gave me made me think I should admit things like that to her more often, and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders as I addressed my sister. “I was telling her that I can’t believe you haven’t sold it.”

  “I’ve had a few offers,” Brooklyn said, “but none of them felt like they were the right people to own it.”

  “You decide who your paintings go home with?” Chelsea asked. “Like a cat or puppy? Must go to a good home.”

  Brooklyn laughed. “Not usually, but there are certain pieces I can’t bring myself to part with. If it doesn’t feel right, I tell them it’s not for sale.” She shrugged. “Probably not the best business move, but I can’t help it. We artistic types get to be weird like that.”

  “And boy does she push that weird to the limit,” Shane said, winding his arms around her waist. Then she twisted to kiss him, and while it used to make me roll my eyes and flee, now I simply curled my girl to me and got lost in kissing her for a moment or two.

  A throat clearing interrupted our fun.

  “Sorry,” Mom said. “Just wanted to come meet…” Recognition dawned. “Chelsea? Wow, look at you. I didn’t even recognize you at first.”

  Chelsea gave a little wave. “Hi, Mrs. Roth.”

  “Oh, it’s Hendricks now.”

  Chelsea’s mouth fell open, remorse and embarrassment flashing across her features. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I knew that, but I’m just so used to calling you Mrs. Roth, and—”

  “It’s fine,” Mom said, waving it off. “That was a lifetime ago, thank God.”

  That grated at me, and I noticed Brooklyn tensed up, too. Then I noticed Dad. Who’d obviously heard.

  Mom seemed oblivious. “Chelsea used to live next door to us,” she explained to Larry. “I didn’t realize you guys were still in touch, much less dating.”

  How would she? “We are,” I said through gritted teeth, and I didn’t think I hid my agitation very well. Mom didn’t hide the moment she spotted Dad very well, either—bitterness tightened her jaw and she reached for Larry’s hand. Dad did try to smile, but it came across as more of a grimace, and then Larry was the one tensing up.

  “Hello, Blake.”

  Dad nodded. “Jennifer.” He didn’t bother addressing her husband. Awkwardness smothered the air, and my brother and sister and I all glanced at one another, each of us silently urging the other to say something.

  “Did you know that up until the twenties, a common shade of brown was made from the flesh of Egyptian mummies?” Chelsea blurted out, and everyone went from do-something statues to staring at her. “Yeah, basically it ended once they ran out of mummies to grind into paint, so anytime you check out a super-old painting, just know that you might also be looking at goo-ified mummy flesh.”

  Mouths hung agape, there was a lot of blinking, and a smile stretched across my face as I wrapped my arms around Chelsea’s waist and drew her back to my chest.

  “Yeah, so…just thought I’d share. Cool, huh?”

  Everyone nodded, and then Mom said, “Well, Larry and I are going to circulate. Finn, Liam, we’re taking Shane and Brooklyn out for dinner to celebrate afterward. We’d love if you’d join us. Chelsea, you’re welcome, too.”

  Hard not to notice she’d left one person in the group out of the invitation. Not that I expected her and Dad to hug and make up, but she could’ve asked us to dinner without him staring on. “I’ll let you know,” I said.

  She and Larry walked away, and Dad simply stood there, stoic as usual. The casual observer probably wouldn’t notice the slight narrowing of his eyes, the same narrowing that happened if his fighter got hit in the cage.

  Chelsea placed her hand on his arm and flashed him a big smile. “Hey, want to show me your favorite of Brooklyn’s paintings? I’m having everyone show me. And if you want to know more fun facts about paint, you should hear how they used to make royal purple back when Cleopatra was obsessed with it—spoiler alert: It involved urine…”

  They headed toward the other side of the room, and gratitude flooded my chest.

  I was a total hypocrite, telling her not to get sucked into family drama and then throwing her in the middle of mine. Naturally she felt like she had to fix the tension, too.

  Brooklyn moved closer to me, and we watched as Dad led Chelsea to a painting. Halfway through whatever they were discussing, he glanced back at Mom, as if he couldn’t help himself.

  “Do you see the way he looks at
her?” Brooklyn asked, her voice low and carrying a hint of sadness. “So much regret that, even knowing what I do, I…I don’t know.”

  “Yeah.” I felt the same way, a twinge tugging at my chest.

  She nudged her pointy elbow into my side. “You don’t want to live with regrets, do you?”

  “I’m starting to regret coming to your art show,” I teased, and she frowned.

  “No need to revert to low blows. All’s I’m saying is, have you asked Chelsea about maybe staying? You can’t just assume she knows that you want her to. You need to say it, so you don’t end up years down the road with a whole heap of regrets not keeping you warm at night.”

  “Just leave it alone, B. You can’t always paint over everything and make it better. I am who I am. Dad is who he is.” If anything, seeing that past, how toxic things were between my parents, made me rethink everything.

  “He’s changing,” she said.

  “His career is in a different place than mine.” Somehow I’d let myself forget that this past week. Let myself get distracted just like I’d told myself again and again that I couldn’t do if I didn’t want to lose my upcoming fight.

  The biggest fight of my life was less than two months away. I had so much riding on it, yet my thoughts drifted to Chelsea more and more, my sparring sessions and the punches I threw weaker than they should be because I’d lost even an ounce of concentration.

  Instead of being present at the gym, I was thinking about heading home, and I’d been halfway through thoughts about how to beat my opponent more than once to find myself sidetracked by how little time Chelsea and I had left and what I could do to stretch it out. Yet I was still failing at being there for her as much as I should. Basically, I was doing a half-ass job at everything.

  My sister opened her mouth, undoubtedly to argue more, but then someone tapped her on her shoulder and asked about a painting, and I took the chance to slip away.

  I walked over to join Chelsea and my dad. When I put my hand on her back and she turned to me, everything inside me completely unraveled. How could I want two things so badly at the same time? Her and to win my fight and for me to find a way to have it all. Maybe that was more than two. “I’m going to steal my dad away for a second. Will you be okay?”